


Touch

by Eurasian_Lynx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FUCKING FINALLY, M/M, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Katsuki Yuuri, Touch-Starved Victor Nikiforov, a lot of it, also to clarify, and lowkey supernatural elements i guess, cause im a sucker for dogs doing things for their humans beyond the grave, cause they just love us that much and you know it dont touch me, not 'they are finally fucking', the 'fucking finally' indicated 'oh my god they got their acts together', this is an E for Everyone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 03:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eurasian_Lynx/pseuds/Eurasian_Lynx
Summary: No reporter had ever seen Victor Nikiforov cry.That didn't mean it didn't happen.Katsuki Yuuri didn't say a thing, but he understood anyway.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueTrekSkates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTrekSkates/gifts).



Victor had always tried his best to be ‘strong’.

He had always tried his best to look like he was on top of the world. Even when he fell down, even when he was hurt, he got right back up again. And if the injury really was too bad, if he literally couldn’t get back up again, he would be strong and brave. He would show no fear, and would push into his recovery like a man on a mission.

No one would ever see him admit to being afraid that he might not recover, or look like he needed to be comforted.

Victor Nikiforov didn’t get afraid.

He was strong, he was brave, and most importantly of all, he was independent.

He never showed weakness.

No reporter had ever seen him cry, save tears of joy.

No reporter had ever seen him show that he was in pain, save the one accident where he had to be hauled off in an ambulance and the paleness of his face could not be hidden. But still, he set his jaw and refused to whimper even as blood soaked through his costume leg.

No reporter had ever seen him staring off at the walls of his apartment, alone except for his dog, and wondering when he might not feel like the walls were closing in on him. When this place might not feel so cold and sterile, just waiting for him to lie down and let the growing coldness in his heart freeze him right along with it as everything just faded into ice and snow.

No reporter had ever seen him pull Makkachin into his arms and sob into her fur, the poor dog not knowing what to do to make him feel better, but trying her best anyway.

But most of all, no reporter had ever seen just how much he longed for a simple, warm hug.

Yakov gave him pats on the back at times, Chris grabbed his ass, fans pulled him in for side hugs for selfies and sponsors shook his hand.

The old lady who lived next door patted his hand whenever he brought her flowers to liven up her apartment or she brought him a batch of cookies, two lonely souls who lived alone showing sympathy to one another. But she had her grandkids come by at least twice a week.

He had no one.

He didn’t let any reporter, nor fan, nor _anyone_ , ever see how much he lingered in those touches. How the impersonal brush of fingers at the store was almost more than he could bear. How just bumping into someone hurt more than they could ever imagine.

Not because he didn’t want the touch, small and accidental as it was.

But because he wanted _more_.

And he was being given the slightest of tastes and then having it ripped away from him.

He never let anyone see how much he wanted to be cuddled all night long, to have his shoulders rubbed and his back stroked, to have his head scratched and hair brushed by loving fingers.

It didn’t have to be a partner, it didn’t have to be the love of his life, he just wanted someone, _anyone_ , to touch him.

Despite all the scandals reporters had claimed of him, none of them were true. He’d never gone beyond over-the-clothes grinding and touching, even when drunk. The thought of having the chance to finally be touched, and then… to have that person walk away, because it was a one-night stand, and that was that… it was more than he could bear.

Just having these slight tastes, a pat on the hand or the back, a quick side hug, the brush of fingers, the bumping of shoulders, yes, even the hand on his ass (loathe as he was to admit that one) and having those ripped away again was almost more than he could take. Intimate contact and then having that taken away? It might just kill him.

Even if he wanted more.

Even if he wanted to be loved.

Even if this as it was was already breaking him inside.

But he couldn’t let anyone see, so he never did.

He was strong, he was Russian.

He was the winter snow.

The ice storm.

The unbeatable and cold gold.

The one to strive to be but who everyone knew would never fall.

He was frozen and alone, trapped in the cold, and soon enough not even his dog could find a way to get him out.

So she cried into the night, and a little dog who had passed away only hours before heard her crying, and he ran back down from the heavens, pushing his former master, who he would always love no matter how long it had been (he never blamed him, he knew his master was doing amazing things, he could sense how proud the family was, and even if he didn’t understand, he was proud too, he had never blamed him) towards the drinks, pushing and pushing him until he drank and drank. Then the little dog ran off again, his work done, and from there, all else followed.

Victor still wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of the whole world seeing what he had kept locked away for so long, but Yuuri, Yuuri was…

He was Yuuri.

And Yuuri was the one who was irritated when Victor tried to pull away at night, the old, ingrained need to be strong and be someone who didn’t need anyone trying to resurface. Yuuri was the one who got frustrated and pulled Victor back to him by force, throwing his arms around his husband’s torso and locking them together. And even if it got hot and sweaty, Yuuri said not a thing when Victor would sometimes get overwhelmed by the sheer _force_ of being given what he’d needed for so long. It made him dizzy and almost sick to have it so frequently and so _permanently_ after having been denied for so long, by others and himself.

It was more of a relief than anything he could have ever imagined.

But Yuuri didn’t say anything, he just snuggled up closer and ran his fingers over Victor’s back. Ran his fingers through that soft, silver hair and scratched lightly at his scalp till Victor was pushing his head into Yuuri’s hands like a pleased cat. They both discovered together that Victor was especially prone to melting when Yuuri scratched behind his ears.

(Yuuri laughed that they ought to tell Yurio, he’d go mad that the old man was actually a cat in disguise.)

Yuuri just rubbed his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace from behind until Victor was his little spoon, all warm and safe and protected. He picked up the brush and ran it through Victor’s hair, and Victor started growing it back out, not because he was trying to ‘reclaim his younger years’, but because it gave Yuuri more to play with, and the more Yuuri played with his hair, the more he did, the nicer it felt.

Yuuri didn’t say anything about Victor, but he also didn’t say anything about himself, and just like how Victor never said anything and Yuuri still noticed, Yuuri never said anything and Victor noticed too. And Victor never said anything, never brought it up. But he still noticed.

He didn’t say anything, but he took his time when Yuuri flinched away from Victor’s hands like he was expecting something bad. It wasn’t like he was expecting to be hit, just that he was expecting Victor to say something, to say it had been an accident. But Victor didn’t say anything, he just watched Yuuri for a moment until the younger man calmed down and let him put his hands on his arm, and gently rubbed the warm skin until he slowly pulled his husband’s head to his shoulder, and tucked the two of them in for a night of movies.

He didn’t say anything, but he lightly scratched at the back of Yuuri’s skull and ran his nails down his spine. He did say something when Yuuri arched into the gentle scratches down his back.

(“Who’s the cat now?” “Shut your face.”)

He just rubbed Yuuri’s feet and gently massaged his stomach (much to Yuuri chagrin, even as he practically melted into the belly rubs) while dropping small kisses here and there.

It wasn’t anything sexual, whether from Yuuri to Victor or Victor to Yuuri.

It really wasn’t.

It was a show of trust that neither of them had had before, for the same reason in the end.

‘Don’t show weakness or they’ll abandon you.’

But while they still struggled to show weakness to others at times, while Victor was still the untouchable ice king and Yuuri the skittish skater, with each other, they were just Victor and Yuuri.

And while Victor the ice king was a five time world champion who could never be defeated, and Yuuri the skittish skater was someone who jumped at his own shadow and was as variable as a teenager’s mood, Victor and Yuuri were more than happy to simply settle down under the covers, wind their arms around each other, pressed as close as they could be, skin to skin, and just enjoy the feeling of finally being touched after so long of being alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Conceptualized and written in under an hour and not beta-read which funnily enough is how most of my fanfic writing happens so glad to know I've got a thing going on here. Also meg I had to do some digging to find your ao3 name why the hell your ao3 name so different from your discord name BUT ANYWAY HI I THOUGHT SOME HURT/COMFORT MIGHT BE UP YOUR ALLEY RN SO HERE'S A GIFT I GUESS I MEAN I WROTE IT SPONTANEOUSLY BUT FIGURED YOU COULD USE SOME SNUGGLY BOYS???
> 
> So yay you now have a fic dedicated to you whoo.
> 
> I love you please feel all the goods. <3


End file.
